


Phoenix

by indiefic



Series: Balance [5]
Category: Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Abortion, after the train derailment, frank discussion of reproductive rights, life after the train, miserable people having joyless sex - Freeform, two dysfunctional assholes in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5397758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curtis and Anna figure out how to survive in a world without Wilford's marvelous engine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Thanks to the engine gate being closed, Curtis survives the initial explosion.  The engine derails, careening through the snow on its side and the gate comes loose.  When everything finally stops moving, there is enough light filtering in through the gate to see bodies.  Curtis hunts frantically through the tangle of people, quickly finding Anna.  She’s alive, as is the baby, who is still clutched tightly in her arms.  Curtis presses a frantic kiss to Anna’s lips and then continues looking.  He finds Timmy first and he seems okay.  Yona is on her feet and searching as well.  She finds Curtis’s two elder children, both scraped and bruised, but alive.  He gathers them close, pressing hard kisses to their cheeks as he makes his way back to Anna.  She hugs them both close, kissing the tops of their heads and they burrow against her, crying.

 

Curtis can’t believe it.  They survived, all of them, actually.  Everyone in the engine is alive, at least for now.  Nam is in a bad way.  Curtis doesn’t give him great odds on lasting the night, but for someone who survived this long, there’s always hope.

 

Yona takes the coats and doles them out.  Curtis doesn’t know where the hell Yona found the coats, but he doesn’t care.  All of the children are now wrapped in the thick fur, the baby, Lydia, her brother, Isaac, sister, Mary, and Tanya’s son, Timmy.  

 

Wilford is alive, but wounded.  He sits there, leaning against the side of the ruined engine compartment.  Anna hands Lydia to Curtis and pushes Isaac and Mary close to him too.  “Watch your children,” she tells him.  He gathers them all in his arms, watching as she bangs against the wall until a compartment slides free.  She extracts a knife and crosses the room to Wilford.  

 

She grabs a fistful of Wilford’s hair and drags him out the ruined gate, into the snow.  Curtis doesn’t need to see to know what she’s doing - and why.  It doesn’t take long.

 

The carnage from the derailment is unbelievable.  The train split into sections, scattered across miles, some of the cars lost to ravines or buried so deep in the snow they will never be reached.  Nam was right.  It’s bitterly cold.  But not like the Revolt of the Seven.  No one is going to freeze to death in minutes.  Yona already saw a bear in the distance.  The idea of giant predators wandering nearby does not thrill Curtis, but it is definitive proof that not all life is extinct, as Wilford wanted everyone to believe.

 

Curtis is beginning to see what Wilford meant about Anna being like Gilliam.  In the chaos, she’s already barking orders, gathering supplies, taking headcounts.  She is not one to remain idle.  People respond to her leadership, just as they respond to Curtis’s own.  They might make a good team.  If they can survive this.

 

The day is a blur and all too soon, night approaches.  Dozens of people crowd into the former engine compartment with all the blankets and supplies they can salvage.  There is no heat, but as Curtis well knows from the tail section, you cram enough bodies in a tin can and it’s bearable.  

 

It’s the same story in the other cars, people huddled together for survival.  A dark part of Curtis appreciates the irony.  Of all the people on the train, the tail section inhabitants are the best positioned to survive this new hell.  They’ve lived through worse.

 

Anna hands Curtis the blankets, taken from Wilford’s private stash, and they make a small nest at the front of the engine compartment.  The baby is asleep on Anna’s chest and the other two huddle between him and Anna, asleep before the covers are even settled.  At the other end of the compartment, someone has managed to start a fire and there is a weak, flickering light, barely enough to make out each other’s features.  They haven’t spoken, nothing more than was absolutely necessary to arrange the logistics.  

 

Curtis leans over and kisses Anna gently.  She sighs against his lips, pulling him closer.  They’re finally free.  No one is going to come and force him away from her.  Not ever again.  But this isn’t the time.  Reluctantly, he pulls back from her and lays down, curling the heat of his body around his children. Beneath the covers, Anna reaches for his hand and he twines his fingers through hers.  

  
  


END CHAPTER


	2. Chapter 2

The first few weeks after the crash were absolute chaos.  It was clear they could not stay where they were, in a mountain pass.  Nam was right.  The days were getting warmer, longer, but it was still frigid.  They planned as best they could, rationed as best they could.  Some of the survivors were determined to stay.  Curtis left them to their fate.

 

Nam was slowly mending.  He shared everything he’d learned from the Inuit woman, Yona’s mother, about the snow and survival.  Curtis put every bit of ingenuity he’d learned living in the tail section to use.  They salvaged everything they could and prepared to head for lower altitudes and closer to the equator.  As best they could tell, they were in what had once been Northern Russia in early spring.  They would have been fucked before CW7 froze the world.  They needed to head south as quickly as possible.

 

Scouting parties ventured out during the days.  They found more examples of wildlife.  Birds, even some caribou in the distance.  There had to be vegetation somewhere.  Using maps and information from the train’s navigators, they knew there was an old city about a hundred miles to the south.  There would be shelter there, at least.  Possibly supplies.  It was better than staying where they were, waiting to die.

 

* * *

 

“Fuck you, I need to talk to Curtis!”

 

Curtis recognizes Seth’s voice and scrambles over the boulder, heading for the remains of the engine compartment.  Xua-ying is there, pointing a pistol Seth.

 

“Hey,” Curtis says to Xua-ying, “It’s okay.  It’s okay.”  She nods and lowers her weapon, retreating back inside the engine compartment.

 

“Curtis, man,” Seth says, reaching out for him.  Curtis hugs him tight.  He’s from the tail section.  Curtis saw his name on the list of survivors, but he hasn’t laid eyes on many of the tail section inhabitants since the crash.  They tend to stick together and to stay away from the other survivors.  But as the group prepares to head south, they’ve been slowly venturing closer.

 

“You made it,” Curtis says.  “I saw your name and Angie’s.  Are you guys all right?  What about the kids?”

 

Seth nods.  “We’re okay, believe it or not.”  He had been with the revolution, but he was badly wounded in the tunnel battle and had stayed behind.  Between Gilliam’s assassination and Wilford’s culling, Curtis knew few of the people who had followed him survived.  The fact that Seth and his partner Angie and their two kids made it was nothing short of a miracle.

 

Seth stands there, stamping his feet against the cold.  “What the fuck, man?” he asks.  “You took the goddamn engine.”

 

Curtis looks around at the wreckage of the train and shrugs.  “Yeah,” he says.  “Sort of.”

 

Seth rubs his hands over his arms and Curtis claps him on the shoulder.  “Come on,” he says.  “Let’s go inside.”

 

They squeeze through the gate and into what remains of the engine compartment. It in no way resembles Wilford’s pristine space.  There are bunks everywhere, people crowding every available inch.  It’s warm, but not well lit.  Curtis is nearly blind after having been outside in the sun and snow, but he knows the way by feel.  He leads Seth to the front of the compartment, to where Yona and Timmy sit with Isaac and Mary.  Anna is out with a scouting team and she always has Lydia with her.

 

When Curtis sits down, Yona takes the opportunity to leave and check on Nam.  Timmy follows her as he always follows her, her little shadow.

 

Seth takes a seat and looks around.  “There are so many stories, man.  We don’t know what to believe.  You know, everything’s fucked now, but we know how to survive.  Those asshole guards need us now.  Hell of a thing.”

 

“Yeah,” Curtis says, laughing mirthlessly.  “All of Wilford’s precious balance blown to hell.”

 

Seth shakes his head.  “We’ve heard the craziest fucking things, Curtis.” He leans in closer.  “Did you take Wilford’s woman?  And his kids?  That’s what some of them are sayin’”

 

Curtis sighs, rubbing his head.  “Anna,” he says.  “Her name is Anna.  She’s Gilliam's daughter.”

 

Seth stares at him.  “Gilliam had a daughter?”

 

Curtis nods.  

 

“Holy shit,” Seth curses.  He blows out a hard breath.  “Damn.  And the kids?”

 

“Mine,” Curtis says.  “She was Wilford’s, but the kids are mine.  She and I have ... been together for years.”

 

Seth just shakes his head.  “How the hell did you manage that?”

 

Curtis frowns.  “It’s a long story.”

 

* * *

 

Anna checks the straps securing Isaac to his chest for the final time.  “You good?” she asks, frowning.

 

“I’m good,” Curtis replies patiently.  She has Lydia.  He has Isaac and Mary, Issac at his chest, Mary at his back.  Anna walks behind him and secures Mary’s hat, wrapping the scarf around her little face.  They’re both strapped directly to him, under his makeshift coat and he enjoys the irony that freezing to death will be the least of his problems today.  He’s already sweating and they haven’t even started walking.

 

Satisfied, Anna turns to him, adjusting his goggles.  Of all the adapting he’s had to do lately, the worse has been the fucking light.  Eighteen years in the dark and now he spends all day outside with the sun reflecting off the blinding white snow.  It’s fucking murder.

 

They finally set off, single file, survivor after survivor, several hundred strong.  There are makeshift sleds, to carry the wounded and infirm.  Nam is on one of them.  He’s healing, but it’s slow going.

 

Curtis knows it will be slow going for all of them.

 

* * *

 

Their trek continues for weeks.  They walk from sunrise to sunset and then take whatever shelter they can find.  Usually it’s snowcaves, but they’ve learned how to make them quickly.  He’s still not sure what, if anything, exists between himself and Anna apart from the kids.  On that subject, they are in perfect alignment.  Curtis is getting to know his children quite well and it brings him as much joy as shame.  Joy because he cannot imagine his life without them.  And shame for what he robbed from other people.

 

They are funny little people, his children.  Even the baby, Lydia.  She has her own personality, strong and true.  They’re all terribly smart.  Anna once suggested that he was biased, but Curtis ignored her.  Living in the tail section, he’s seen loads of brats.  He knows his are more clever than most.

 

The little monsters, as he’s taken to calling them, are no longer tentative around him, which is both a blessing and a curse.  He spent nearly half an hour one morning trying to catch Mary so he could strap her to him for the trek.  Anna seemed amused by his exasperation.  “She’s figured out you’re not going to leave her, no matter what,” Anna said.  “You’re basically fucked.”  The statement filled him with a weird sense of pride and irritation.

 

The little monsters look like him.  He thought, at first, that they looked like Anna.  And they do.  But they look like him more.  Where Anna is golden, he’s pink.  Where her hair is curling and chestnut brown, his is stick straight and black.  The monsters are all pinky with black hair.  Lydia’s eyes are light, like his own.  None of them look even the tiniest hint like Wilford, thank fucking god.

 

Curtis still has no idea what really existed between Wilford and Anna.  He learned enough from Wilford’s taunts to know it must have been hellish for her.  But there hasn’t been time or opportunity to ask her about it.  There hasn’t been time or opportunity to ask her about much of anything that’s not directly pertinent to their immediate survival.  Or the kids.  They talk about the monsters a lot.

 

Their relationship is surreal to say the least.  Four years they were together.  Four years of no speaking and lots of fucking.  Now they’re finally free, and they talk, but rarely touch.  He still doesn’t know why she never told him, in all their time together.  

 

Gilliam and Wilford kept him in the dark intentionally.  They needed to tie him to the train and they tried to do that with Anna and the children.  If she had spoken to him, if he had learned more about her, maybe it would have been harder to risk her life by refusing Wilford’s offer.  Maybe she kept quiet to give him the space to make his own choice.

 

Or maybe she was just a coward.  That’s possible too.  

 

But he sort of doubts it.  She doesn’t back down from much.  Or anything, really, that he’s ever seen.  The more he gets to know her, the more he can’t believe she didn’t speak to him in four years.  She has a comeback for every goddamn thing.  She never fails to rise to the bait.  Though typically that is directed at assholes she knew from the front section.  People with whom she’s had a long and caustic relationship.  There aren’t many of them, and of the ones who remain, few are stupid enough to take her on.  But when the mood (or kronole, it’s usually kronole) strikes one of the idiots, it’s a hell of a show.  Curtis had to pull her off some fat fuck a couple of weeks ago.  Or at least he used to be a fat fuck.  No one is really a fat fuck anymore.  They’re all starving to death.

 

Anna doesn’t fight with Curtis.  Ever.  But he’s well aware that she’s more than capable of it.  He’s not sure what stops her, because he knows he often irritates the shit out of her.  But she bites her tongue.

 

He wonders if she hates him and she’s afraid to loose that tide of emotion.  Maybe she was forced to be with him.  He doesn’t really want to think about that possibility.  Part of him rejects the very idea.  He doesn’t think he ever forced her to do anything.  All he ever wanted to do was to make her happy, for however briefly.  But she doesn’t talk to him about what happened on the train.  Not about anything of substance and he just doesn’t know.  So he goes with it, follows her lead, follows the course.

 

They’re together now.  Publically acknowledged by the rest of the survivors.  They’re treated as partners.  Their life together is full of a thousand little intimacies.  He watches her nurse the baby.  He tells Mary and Isaac stories as they drift off to sleep, situated between Anna and himself.  And yet, he feels so disconnected from her.

 

He thinks maybe he has no idea how to do this, how to be with someone.  Maybe he has no idea how to be human. Maybe he seemed like a good bet to her when they were on the train, a fun distraction.  And now she’s saddled with him for the sake of the monsters.  

 

Even if that is true, she’s going to have to be the one to end things.  He’s never going to leave her.  

 

But it would be nice to get laid.

 

* * *

 

At the beginning of the fourth week, they can see the ruins of the city in the distance.  It takes another ten solid days of walking before they reach them.  

 

It’s unreal, wandering the streets of the deserted city.  Curtis remembers cities, but he knows many of the survivors do not.  A lot of them are train babies, or were so young the train is all they remember.  They all look around in wonder.  He catches Nam’s eye and he knows he feels the same way.  That it’s a waste.  That humanity threw this all away.

 

It’s a bit of a free for all at first, survivors ransacking buildings, scavenging for supplies.  They find a surprising amount of useable items.  Food, clothing, tools. They find a sturdy building that looks like it used to be a library and all pile in.  Some complain.  With all the room, why do they have to spend the night on top of each other again.  But Anna makes the argument for safety in numbers, especially since animal sightings are becoming more and more common the farther south they move.  

 

They find oil lamps and light them.  Someone finds maps of the city.  They make plans to search section by section.  It doesn’t help that none of them read Russian.  At least they think it’s Russian.  Regardless, they can’t read it.

 

Survival isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon.  Curtis knows that.  The trek to the city nearly killed some of the survivors and everyone is worse for the wear.  They need to regroup, recover, see what they can salvage from this city, before they formulate a plan to move on.  There are cars.  Some of the gearheads think maybe they can modify them to run in this weather.  There’s a hospital, possibly with usable medical supplies.

 

There are also lots and lots of frozen bodies.  But no one talks about that.

 

The first few days are non-stop chaos.  Curtis considers venturing out into the city, seeing if he can find some quiet space to use as a homebase for them.  But it’s not a possibility right now.  Either he or Anna are woken several times a night with one emergency or another.  They have to be close at hand.

 

As the others start to clear sections of the city, claiming their own spaces, the library is less crowded.  One day, Curtis blows off the decision making and takes Mary and Isaac with him on an expedition, enlisting Yona and Timmy’s help as well.  They arrive back at the library hours later with two mattresses and a load of blankets.  Curtis cleans out one of the offices, with a door that locks, and claims it, throwing down the mattresses and blankets.  The monsters are overjoyed.  

 

Anna walks in to see them jumping on the mattresses, taking note of the fact that there are clearly two mattresses, separated by several feet.  She looks at Curtis, but says nothing.

 

* * *

 

That night, he gets the monsters to sleep and makes sure they are mounded with covers. He knows from experience that they sleep like the dead.  Nothing short of their mother yelling their names will wake them.  Even then, it’s not a sure thing it would wake them up.

 

Lydia is a bit trickier.  She still sleeps on Anna most of the time.  Curtis waits until she drifts off while nursing and then gently lays her in an empty desk drawer he lined with blankets, situated between the two mattresses.  He won’t leave her there for the night, but for a while, at least, she can manage.

 

Anna sits there, not bothering to rebutton her shirt, watching him in the flickering candlelight.  She finally lays back on the mattress, pulling the covers up.  When he’s sure the baby is out, he joins Anna, scooting next to her under the covers.  He is on his side, she on her back.  He rests his hand at her waist, looking down at her.  This is literally the first time they’ve touched like this since before Lydia was born.  

 

He wants to say something, but he has no idea what to say, so he leans down and kisses her.  She kisses him back, pulling him closer and he scoots down, pressing the length of his body against her, leaning over her.  He undresses them both slowly, but efficiently.  He has no faith that the monsters won’t conspire to ruin the moment, so he tries to be quick.  When they’re both naked, he moves over her and she stops him, a hand against his chest.  “I can suck you off,” she says, “but if you fuck me, you have to pull out.  We can’t have another kid.  Not now.”

 

He nods and moves to cover her again.

 

“Curtis,” she says sharply.  

 

“I heard you,” he says.  “I’ll pull out.”

 

She seems irritated, which irritates him in return.  And rather than covering her, he slides down her body.  He refuses to be the only one who’s into this encounter.  And while he’s learning more about her personality every day, he’s known about her body for years.  She parts her legs eagerly for him and he tastes her, losing himself in the smell and feel of her.  It isn’t long before she’s muffling her cries against a blanket, her hips pressing against him as she comes.  He wipes his face on one of the blankets and moves up her body, sliding into her as he captures her lips.  She kisses him, hard and deep as her legs wrap around his hips.  Whatever mental reservations she might have about this, she responds to him physically.  She has always responded to him physically.  

 

For as flippant as he was earlier with her, he knows she has a point about being careful.  Because it’s been too fucking long and he’s never had her like this, when she’s truly free to be his.  And he barely manages to withdraw at the crucial moment, hissing through his teeth as he comes against her abdomen.

 

He’s braced over her, breathing hard and he hears a noise.  He turns his head to find Isaac staring at him.  “Go back to sleep, Buddy,” he says and the little boy’s eyes close.

 

“Welcome to our brave new world,” she says dryly, but she grabs his face in her hands and pulls him down for a lingering kiss.

 

END CHAPTER


	3. Chapter 3

He’s sitting there, chewing on an ancient ... god, he thinks it’s a granola bar.  His memory of life before the train is fuzzy at best, but that seems right.  Did Russians eat granola bars?  He doesn’t even know.  But it’s not a bug block, so he’s content to give it the benefit of the doubt.

 

The monsters, having already eaten, are jumping on one of the mattresses.   Anna is sitting on the other mattress, nursing the baby, half asleep herself.  Last night was a bit of a disaster.  There was a problem with one of the generators they found and Anna spent half the night coordinating logistics so the dozen people in the infirmary didn’t freeze to death.  He knows that life has been physically harder on her the last several months than it’s ever been.  She’s no longer one of the elite, given priority to humanity’s limited resources.  Curtis knows he can’t insulate her from the harshness of life the way Wilford could.  

 

“I love you,” he says, apropos of absolutely nothing.  Except he doesn’t say it.  He sort of growls it at her, like an accusation.

 

Anna looks at him and it’s really similar to that look she gave the kronole addict they found trying to fuck one of the radiators last week.  Shaking her head, she looks away.

 

When the baby is finished, Anna bundles her and the other two monsters up.  Curtis tosses his granola bar wrapper into the corner and helps Isaac with his boots.  Together, all five of them make their way down the hall to the cavernous space that serves as the center for their little human enclave.  There are dozens of people milling around, engaged in a wide variety of tasks.  In the far corner is a makeshift market where people barter and trade, mostly items salvaged from the city, but sometimes novel creations, for the few craftspeople who know how to turn raw resources into finished products.

 

Anna takes Isaac and Lydia with her, heading for the strategy room to look at the week’s counts.  Curtis takes Mary with him outside and down the block to the machine shop where the gearheads are tinkering with the vehicles they’ve found.

 

Nam is there, propped up in a chair, covered with layers of blankets, watching.  He doesn’t say a lot, but when he does speak, it’s always worth listening to.  He’s one of the better engineers in the group.  And being a good twenty years older than almost everyone else, he remembers a lot more of the world beyond the train.  Curtis is glad that Nam’s resourcefulness is widely recognized and needed.  His injuries are slow to heal and undoubtedly painful.  Curtis knows it would be easy for him to give in to losing himself in alcohol - of which there is plenty in the city.  But so far the only vice Nam has indulged is smoking this rank little cigars Yona found in one of the old shops.

 

Nam smiles as he sees Mary and calls her over to him.  She happily bounds toward him, listening intently as he tells her a secret.  Curtis already knows that Nam’s secrets range from obscure bits of philosophy to shockingly practical bits of advice about water potability.  You never know what you’re going to get.

 

For several hours, Curtis helps the gearheads.  He’s interrupted a half dozen times by various people needing him to adjudicate conflicts or prioritize jobs.  Mary watches and plays and talks to Nam who seems to genuinely enjoy her company.  It’s nearing midday when Nam wants to head back to the library, so Curtis helps him, supporting him as he slowly walks through the ice and snow.

 

“How is Yona?” Curtis asks.  He sees her often enough to have formed his own opinion, but he wonders what Nam thinks.

 

Nam nods.  “Yes,” he says.  “Good.”  He seems truly pleased and Curtis imagines that he is.  Surely this is what Nam’s wife wanted, all those years ago.  For Nam and Yona to be free of Wilford’s terrible balance.

 

“And you, Curtis,” Nam asks quietly, in stilted English.  “How are you?”

 

Curtis nods.  He has no idea what to say.  It’s better than the train.  He has freedom, he has a chance to improve himself and his world.  He has his children.   He has Anna.  In body, if not in spirit.  He wonders if that is always how it was and he just never noticed.  “Good,” he says firmly.  “I’m good.  We’re good.”

 

Nam looks at him, unconvinced.

 

* * *

It’s several hours after sundown when Curtis looks into their room and sees Yona with the monsters, all three of them.  He puts his hand on the door, but someone catches his elbow and pulls him back.  He turns to face Anna.  He hadn’t realized she was there.  He hasn’t seen more than a glimpse of her since this morning.  Without a word, she pulls him back, down the hallway and he goes with her.  She ducks into what was once a reading room.  There’s a window in the door so that even when it’s closed, it’s not completely dark inside.  But it is cold.  Cold he can deal with.  To be alone with her.

 

Anna pulls him close and he kisses her, hard and deep, like it’s been months since he last had her, rather than days.  Like she still belongs to someone else and he has to steal time to be with her.  

 

She pushes him back against the wall and reaches for the fly of his trousers.  His head smacks back against the plaster as she unzips him and reaches inside, stroking him roughly.  They kiss for long minutes as she works him over with her hand.  She eventually pulls back, dropping to her knees and tugging his trousers down his hips.  He hisses as her mouth closes over him.  They’ve done this, a few times.  Not many.  In all their times together, he was usually trying to get her pregnant.  Now that balance has shifted, like everything else.  He bites back a curse as he comes and he’s still fighting for breath as Anna rises to her feet and rights his trousers.  She starts for the door and he pulls her back, gathering her close.

 

She goes into his arms easily, pressing herself against him, releasing a shuddering breath as she relaxes into him.  They stand there for long minutes, holding one another.  She presses her face into the juncture of his neck and shoulder.  “I love you Curtis,” she says quietly.  And then she pulls away, reaching for his hand and dragging him in her wake back to their room.

 

* * *

 

They’re both laying there, awake.  The monsters are asleep, all three of them.  Lydia is sleeping on the mattress.  She’s started rolling over in the last few days.  Night before last, she rolled off Anna and onto the floor.  It wasn’t a fall, exactly, but it necessitated rearranging things.  Mary and Isaac are still on the far mattress, bundled with blankets.  Curtis sleeps closest to the door, then Anna, then Lydia, so that if she rolls off, she’ll roll into the space between the two mattresses.  Curtis asked Anna why she didn’t just put Lydia in between them and Anna curtly informed him that she didn’t trust him not to roll over on the baby.  While Curtis was offended, he also admitted she had a point.  Curtis sleeps much more deeply than Anna, who seems to wake at the slightest noise from any of the monsters.  And Lydia is still so small.

 

The net effect, however, is that for the first time in the entire relationship, he and Anna are looking at a future of sleeping right next to each other every night.  It depresses Curtis that such a mundane occurrence is so novel.  They’ve been together for years.  They have three children.  And the typical intimacy of sleeping next to one another is so uncharted that both of them are laying awake wondering what the hell to do.

 

“I didn’t mean - “ Curtis says and then stops.

 

“What?” Anna asks.

 

They are both on their sides, facing toward the monsters.  He isn’t exactly spooned against her, but their feet are tangled together.

 

“I didn’t mean to drop that on you,” he says.  “This morning.  I didn’t mean - ”  He sighs.  “I’m not going anywhere.  You didn’t have to -”  He falls silent.

 

She’s quiet.  He hears her take a breath.  “I already knew,” she says quietly.  “I’ve never doubted that, Curtis.  Not since that first night in that little bunk with the bad bulb.”

 

He’s surprised that she remembers it the same way he does, though he’s not sure why.  In the dark, he reaches out, placing his hand on her hip.  She covers it with her own hand and scoots back against him, slotting her body against his.

 

“Did you,” he asks.  “Did you _want_ to be there, that night?”

 

“I went there to confront my father,” she says.  “And I found you.”  She rolls over, facing him in the near dark.  Lydia screeches in her sleep, a not uncommon occurrence.  They’re both quiet, waiting to see if she will wake, but she doesn’t.

 

“Wilford and Gilliam,” he asks.  “Did they ... force you -”

 

“No,” she says flatly.  “No, they didn’t.  I didn’t know that Wilford knew anything about my trips to the tail section until months later.”  She sighs.  “No, Father arranged it all.  I went there to meet with him, to try and punish him for his role in the McGreggor riots.”

 

“But you didn’t,” Curtis says.  He knows Gilliam said that he hadn’t seen Anna since she was sixteen, so whatever happened on Anna’s adventures to the tail section, she never reconnected with her father.

 

“No,” she says.  “I waited there, in that bunk.  For him.  But he didn’t show up.”

 

“I did,” Curtis says quietly.  He wraps his arm tighter around her waist.  “So they didn’t tell you to - “

 

“Seduce you?” she offers.  “No.”

 

“That’s not what I’d call it,” he says, frowning in the dark.

 

“Really?” she asks.  “So what would you call it when a woman you don’t know throws herself at you, climbs on top of you, undresses you?”

 

“Hey,” he says, “I’m pretty sure I was participating too.”

 

She’s quiet again and he has no idea what that means.  Finally, she takes a breath.  “Wilford and Father didn’t have to force me to do anything,” she says.  “Father knew that putting the two of us in a bunk together would be enough.”

 

“Enough for what?” Curtis asks.

 

“For all of it,” she says sadly.  “Enough to make me their accomplice.”

 

Curtis pushes himself up on his elbow and looks down at her.  “What are you talking about?”

 

She rolls onto her back and looks up at him in the dim light.  “I knew,” she says.  “ _I knew all of it_.  I knew Father was in league with Wilford.  I knew the two of them orchestrated the tail section massacres.  I knew, Curtis.  And I didn’t tell you.  I didn’t say anything.  Instead, I fucked you.  And I let you go on believing in Father.”

 

He shakes his head, having no idea how to respond.  It’s not like he hasn’t thought about why she never told him.  But he isn’t convinced that her interpretation really captures what happened.  “Why?” he asks, not unkindly, just curious.  “Why did you ... why were you with me?”

 

“Because in that moment, in that bunk,” she says, “I loved you.  I knew you weren’t like Father.  I knew you were a good man.  And all I wanted to do was make your life a little less miserable.”

 

“You did, you know,” he says earnestly.  “You were the only joy in my life for years.  You were what kept me going.”

 

“I was their tool,” she says bitterly.  “I was what they used to keep you compliant, to manipulate you.  Because I was too much of a coward to tell you the truth.  And I was too weak to let you go.”

 

He leans down, cups the side of her face and presses his forehead to hers.  “It’s not weakness to love someone, Anna.  It’s not.”

 

He kisses her, but he can feel the tears on her cheeks.

 

“You had no choice,” she said thickly.

 

“The fuck I didn’t have a choice,” he snaps.  “What does that mean?  Of course I had a choice.  No one had a gun to my head.  Being with the woman I loved, how can you possibly say that was something I was forced into?”

 

“What was your alternative?” she asked.  

 

He laughs then, louder, truly amused.  “Anna,” he says firmly, “I love you.  I do.  But if you think you were the only piece of ass on that train, I have news for you.”  He stops, sighs.  “If I’d wanted to get laid, I could have gotten laid.  I made a very deliberate choice not to.”  

 

“Because you didn’t want more train babies,” she says.

 

He nods in the dark and says quietly, “Yeah.”

 

She sighs and he knows she feels guilty for that too, like she trapped him into a choice he didn’t want to make.  And perhaps it’s the slightest bit true.  But he abandoned those ideals the second he got involved with her.  He trapped himself, and he was glad to do it.  If he had it to do over again, he wouldn’t change a thing.  He loves her.  He loves the monsters.

 

Curtis takes a deep breath and forces himself to ask the next question.  “What about you?  I know a little of what happened with Wilford, but were there others, did you - “

 

“From time to time,” she says quietly.  “Never for long.  They were always disappointments.”

 

He has no idea what that means.  Were they bad lovers?  Did she want children they couldn’t give her.  He finally finds the courage to ask.  “Disappointing how?”

 

“They were content,” she said.  “With Wilford’s balance.”

 

 _Ah_.  He nods.  Curtis certainly was never content with that.

 

She lifts her hand, presses it to his cheek.  “And none of them - “  She stops.  “None of them were _you_.”

 

He still doesn’t know what that means to her, what he has that sets him apart from the scores of other men on the train.  With her position and beauty she could have had anyone.  And she chose him.

 

Curtis sighs.  “Gilliam provided the opportunity, but we did the rest.  No one forced either of us.  We were together because we wanted to be together.”

 

He’s not sure she’s convinced, but she finally nods.  He opens his mouth and closes it again, then gives his head a sharp shake.  “I’ll take care of you and the kids,” he says.  “Always.  No matter what.  I need you to know that.  I need you to know you don’t owe me anything.”

 

“I didn’t blow you because I was afraid you were going to run off,” she says dryly.

 

“Then why did you do it?” he asks, harsher than he intends.

 

“Because I wanted to,” she says flatly.   She takes a deep breath and exhales sharply and he knows she’s frustrated.  “I chose to have a life with you, Curtis.  I chose to have our children.  I just ... I never intended to lie to you in the process.”

 

“Did you intend to ever _live with_ me?” he asks.

 

She’s quiet for a long time.  “I don’t know,” she says softly.  “I didn’t want to keep Wilford’s balance.  But I’m not sure I believed it could ever end.”

 

He drags his hand across his short hair, screwing his eyes shut in the darkness.  This is broken.  All broken.  And he can’t figure out why.  Much less, how to fix it.  “I can find another mattress, another room,” he says quietly.  “If that’s what you want.”

 

“It’s _not_ what I want,” she says immediately, her hand reaching up and fisting in the material of his shirt and he is so damn grateful.  He leans down and kisses her and she reciprocates eagerly.  “I’m not trying to get rid of you,” she says against his lips.

 

He pulls back.  “But you're not sure you want to keep me either.”

 

“I don’t - “ she stops, falls silent.  “Can we talk about this later,” she finally says.

 

“Yeah,” he says, weary of the subject himself.  And he knows nothing is going to be resolved tonight.  If he keeps pushing, she’s just going to snap and kick him out.  He settles back down onto the mattress, pulling her against him.  

  
END CHAPTER


	4. Chapter 4

“We have to decide.  Soon.  This week,” Anna says quietly.

 

Curtis is alone with her in the strategy room.  It’s summer.  The days are so long and usually warm enough that the streets run with water.  It all freezes again overnight.  But during the day it’s far warmer than Curtis ever remembers being - at least since before the train.  They have to decide if they’re going to risk trying to move the camp farther south now, or if they want to dig in through the winter and start out as soon as spring hits next year.

 

“There are still a lot of wounded,” Curtis says.  “The trip will be hard.  We could send out scouts, get a better idea.  We don’t know what the winter is going to bring.”  The train kept pace with the seasons, more or less, typically shooting to be in the warmest region on the planet at any given time.  The last year, maybe two years, there were problems.  Engine parts going extinct.  Timelines slipping.  The days of Wilford’s precious balance were numbered, even before the derailment.  It’s how they ended up in a high mountain pass in northern Russia in the middle of winter.  That hadn’t been part of Wilford’s plan.

 

Anna nods.  “The longer we stay here, the more complacent people become.”  She paces over to the bank of windows overlooking the town square and stares out.

 

Curtis watches her.  She’s still the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.  Soft and feminine, yet so very strong.  Her hair is long, falling nearly to her waist and she often wears it in a simple braid down her back, keeping it out of Lydia’s grasping hands.  “Do you think we should go?” he asks.

 

She shrugs and shakes her head.  “I don’t know,” she says quietly.  “If we had less wounded, if Xua-ying wasn’t pregnant and in such poor health, if one of us could fucking read Russian.”  She sighs.  “I don’t want to stay here forever.”  She looks over her shoulder at him.

 

He realizes how much she must value his counsel.  Anna is not one to openly express indecision.  Ever.  For her to be so frank with him about her concerns reminds him that they’re more than partners of convenience.  

 

“Given what we’ve found here and how warm this summer is,” he says, “we have to keep moving south.  I’m thinking that we send scouting crews out and wait for spring for the big move.  Nam has recovered a lot and become indispensable.  I’m afraid another trek right now might finish him off.  Same with Xua-ying.  Losing either of them would be an enormous blow to the entire camp.  We have more to gain by waiting.”

 

Anna looks at him and nods.  “So we wait,” she says, frowning, but sounding resolved.

 

“We wait,” Curtis agrees.

 

Anna sighs and toes absently at a stack of books on the floor.  “The monsters will be happy,” she says.  “They love being here.”

 

He frowns, considering.  “Was it bad for them?  On the train?”

 

She shrugs, looking away.

 

“What does that mean?” he asks carefully, trying not to start an argument with her.

 

She’s silent for so long that he doesn’t think she’s going to answer, but she finally turns to look at him.  “You weren’t with them on the train,” she says.  “That’s the biggest difference.”  She shakes her head.  “But they’re also pretty fond of jumping on the mattresses.  That was never allowed.”

 

As gratified as he is by her words, he’s also hurt that it took so much for her to tell him.  Curtis knows Wilford never tried to parent the monsters.  Curtis is the only father they’ve ever known.  And as grateful as Curtis is for that fact, he also knows that it robbed the monsters of a lot of opportunities.  Luckily, they’re all young enough that Curtis hopes he can make up the difference.

 

“I’m going to find a place for us,” he says, “away from here.  If we’re looking at another three seasons, we don’t need to spend it being completely available to anyone with a bone to pick.”

 

She nods, her attention fixated on something outside the window.

 

***

 

It takes Curtis weeks to find the time to really look for a place, which is just as well.  By the time he goes looking, a market has sprung up.  Seth is part of it.  He helps people relocate, for a fee.  Curtis is shocked at how well Seth knows the city and Curtis is grateful for his expertise as it means less burden for him.  Seth shows him a couple of different places and Curtis settles on one that’s a short walk from the library and city square.  It’s the smallest of the places Seth has shown him, but Curtis knows that when the snows come again, location will be the most valuable commodity.  Seth, Angie and their kids live in the building too.

 

It used to be a private residence, but over the last couple of months, the building has been partitioned out into a half dozen living quarters.  Curtis takes a large room on the second floor with a bank of south facing windows.  There are two smaller rooms inside, which Curtis thinks must have been closets, though he really can’t imagine a single person having enough possessions to fill up all that space.

 

Several of the building’s other inhabitants are decent engineers and they’ve rigged up a communal washroom with running water. Cold, but running.  There’s also a bathhouse in the back courtyard that they have in working order.  It’s old verging on ancient, but it works and it’s very warm.

 

Curtis puts a mattress in one of the closets for the monsters.  For the outer room, he manages, with Seth’s help, to find an actual bed.  If Anna is impressed by his efforts, she hides it well.  When they finally move, it only takes one trip.  They leave the old mattresses.  Yona, Timmy and Nam move into the space they vacate in the library.

 

The monsters are thrilled with their new room and seem to take particular delight in closing the door, which really is Curtis’s favorite part too.  Not that he doesn’t love them.  But he knows he and Anna are never going to get things figured out if they don’t have some modicum of privacy.

 

The plan, to overwinter in the city, progresses.  Two scouting parties take their best vehicles and head south.  The plan is for them to get as far as they can in six weeks and then head back, hopefully before the snows start in earnest.  It’s a big risk, with some of their most valuable resources, but Curtis doesn’t see another way.  

 

The privacy with Anna turns out to be overrated.  Curtis spends most of his time making preparations for the coming winter.  He knows that some infrastructure work can make the difference between people making it through the winter in good shape to head out in the spring, and them barely surviving.  So days are spent performing back breaking labor.  It’s a perverse sort of enjoyment Curtis finds in the tasks.  He worked, on the train.  But space was so limited that it was nothing compared to the things he’s doing now, grueling manual labor.  And luckily there’s enough food to go around now.  It’s not the greatest quality, but after nearly two decades spent eating bug blocks, he’ll take it.

 

He feels guilty.  He knows his days spent working from dawn to well past dusk means that Anna has to take hugely disproportionate responsibility for the children.  She never complains about it, which makes him feel even worse.  He knows that Anna still holds back so much with him and he doesn’t know why.  He almost wishes she’d yell at him, tell him she needs him.  But she doesn’t.  The limited communicating they do these days is almost always camp logistics, because it’s the most pressing issue and time is incredibly scarce.  

 

They sleep next to each other at night, but she and the monsters are almost always asleep by the time he gets home.  And Curtis is typically so exhausted that he doesn’t have the energy to initiate anything physical.  Anna doesn’t initiate.  He wonders if it’s a relief to her.  Or if she’s as frustrated as he is.  It’s almost worse than the damn train.

 

***

 

In a huge deviation from the norm, Curtis is still at the apartment.  By this time he’s usually been working for hours.  But Lydia is sick and Anna had to meet Xua-ying and another engineer named Rook to go over some water sanitation issues.

 

There’s a knock at the door and Curtis finally has Lydia asleep on his shoulder as he pulls the door open.  He’s expecting Yona or Vanessa, or Angie even - any of their regular circle.  But Curtis doesn’t know who this guys is.  That’s not true.  Six hundred people.  He knows everyone’s faces.  But he’s never spoken to this guy and he has no idea what his name is.  Curtis knows he was from the front.  “Yeah?”

 

The guy’s not very tall, slightly built with white blond hair and dark brown eyes.  There’s a vicious scar across his right cheek.  He shakes his head.  “I’m looking for Anna.  They said this was her room.”

 

“This is her room,” Curtis says darkly.  “Whadya want?”

 

The guy looks at Curtis and the sleeping baby.  In the background, the monsters are screaming and jumping off the bed into a mound of blankets.  The guy looks annoyed and rather disgusted by Curtis.  He shakes his head.  “Nevermind,” he says, turning.

 

“Who are you?” Curtis asks.

 

The guys stops and looks at him.  “Anders,” he says, frowning, as if it’s beneath him to talk to Curtis.  “Tell Anna I stopped by.”

 

***

 

Curtis is in the bathhouse.  Alone.  Something is off with him.  Moreso than usual.  Anna doesn’t know what it is, but she suspects lack of sex is a big part of it.  She gets it.  She really does.  It’s not like she enjoys being celibate either.  Tonight, she’s decided to do them both a favor.

 

Vanessa is with the children.  

 

As Anna opens the bathhouse door, the wall of steam hits her.  It’s so deliciously warm in here and she shivers in visceral enjoyment before reaching back and latching the door so they won’t be disturbed.  Time alone with Curtis is rare, which she usually appreciates.  But she also craves being alone with him.  It’s always push and pull.  Wanting what she can’t have.  Afraid of what she does have.  She wishes she could figure it out.

 

Across the room, Curtis’s eyes are closed.  He’s in one of the four wooden tubs, leaning back against it, his feet poking out at the far end.  He’s very pink and Anna wonders how warm the water is.  

 

She hangs her robe on one of the hooks and kneels next to his tub, laying out a thick towel to cushion her knees from the rough cedar plank floors.  It’s a common enough occurrence to share the bath house, but other bathers mind their own business.  He immediately sits up, eyes wide.  When he realizes it’s her, he relaxes a bit, but not completely.  He looks at her warily, leaning back in the tub.

 

“Yona with the kids?”  He looks her over from head to toe, his gaze lingering, as usual, on her breasts.

 

“Vanessa,” she says, reaching for the small cloth and the cake of soap.  He watches as she lathers the soap into the cloth, but closes his eyes again as she runs the cloth over his chest.  He’s filled out a lot since they arrived in the city.  She’s noticed.  But she definitely hasn’t had the opportunity to take this good of a look recently.  They’ve both been run so ragged that they barely have a moment to speak to one another, let alone anything else.  His shoulders and biceps are thickly muscled, as is his chest.  She always found him attractive, but she admits she’s quite pleased with the changes in his body.  He no longer looks like he’s starving.  He looks like a man in his prime, and she wants him so very much.

 

She rubs the cloth over his chest and shoulders and he makes a contented sound.  Urging him to sit up, she scrubs his back.  He’s sitting there in the tub, legs drawn up, elbows braced on his knees.  He turns his head to the side and looks at her.  She’s kneeling next to the tub, nude.  He reaches out and runs a hand down her side, the heel of his palm skimming against the edge of her breast.  

 

She smiles at him and leans forward, kissing him, before pulling back.  “Let me finish,” she says.

 

He makes a frustrated sound, but humors her.  It seems like a lifetime ago that she last did this.  In reality, it’s what?  Three years?  She was afraid, then, to let him know she had a child, their child.  She had no idea how he would react.  It turned out all her fears were for naught.  She hates Wilford and Father for making her question everything about him.  Curtis never shied away from that responsibility.

 

She runs the soap through his hair, lathering it vigorously.  His hair is longer now and so straight.  She’s made several attempts to try and shape it into something manageable but so far it has mostly defied her attempts.  She takes some measure of comfort in the fact that it gives her more insight into Isaac’s hair, which is every bit as stubbornly uncooperative.

 

Rising to her feet, she pads over to the little stove and takes the bucket of water warming there.  She tests the water and then has him lean forward as she pours it over his head, rinsing his hair.  When she’s finished, she hands him a towel and he dries his face.  He leans back against the tub, watching her.  

 

“Come here,” he says quietly.

 

She arches an eyebrow at him, but carefully complies, sitting in his lap, perpendicular to him, so her arms and legs are completely out of the little oval tub.  She wraps an arm around his shoulders and he pulls her closer.  She watches as he takes the cake of soap and lathers it in his hands and then spreads it across her chest, his calloused fingers skimming lightly over her sensitive skin, making her bite her bottom lip in anticipation.  He cups water in his palm and slowly rinses off the soap.

 

She presses her forehead against his temple, her breath coming quicker.  He turns his head and captures her lips.  Slanting her mouth against his, she kisses him back, all teeth and tongue and hunger.  He shifts and water sloshes over the edge of the tub.  “Why’re you here?” he asks between demanding kisses.

 

“Missed you,” she says.  “I want you to make me come.”

 

He groans, reaching between her legs.  The angle is awkward and the water, rather than helping, is actually hindering.  With a growl of frustration, he urges her to stand and then scrambles out of the tub himself, pulling her down onto the towel she laid out earlier.  She’s on her back, he’s on his side next to her, kissing her, his fingers parting her gently, rubbing her.  It’s lovely, but it’s not what she hungers for.  She pushes at his shoulders and he takes the hint, working his way down her body.  He hooks one of her legs over his shoulder and then his mouth is there, hot and wet against her.

 

She doesn’t exactly have an illustrious sexual history, but some of them weren’t bad.  Curtis is miles ahead of the pack, especially in this arena.  She gives herself over to it, to him, to the things he makes her feel.  She’s been on edge for days, wet and aching at the thought of him, her breasts so sensitive.  She knows what these things mean.  She knows this is the absolute worst time to seek him out, but she did it anyway.  She’s never wanted anyone the way she wants Curtis.

 

He forces her to the peak not once, but twice and she finally twists away onto her side, sobbing, gasping for breath.  He pushes himself back, kneeling, looking down at her.  She knows what she must look like, naked, boneless on the floor, covered in perspiration.  He stares down at her, looking satisfied and hungry and angry all at once.

 

He rolls her onto her back and braces himself over at her.  Slowly, he lowers himself, pressing his body against hers.  She can feel him, hard against her thigh.  “Did you fuck him?” he asks, his eyes narrowed.

 

Her brow furrows as she looks up at him.  “ _What_?”

 

“You heard me,” he says, his voice as hard as the rest of him, “did you fuck him?  Am I not enough?”

 

She is still frowning in confusion when he shifts, pushing into her, making her gasp in pleasure that’s almost pain.  Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist.  She has no idea what he’s talking about and she pushes at his chest.  He catches her hand, pins it to the floor, driving into her.  She lifts her hips to meet his thrusts, hating him - hating herself more.  Because even confused and angry, she still wants this.  She wants him.  She’s close again, arching up against him, but he’s driving for his own release.  Too soon, his body goes rigid above her and he slumps against her heavily.

 

She lays there, staring at the ceiling, hating everything, her body still clenching around his with unfulfilled desire.  He’s heavy against her, pressing her into the floorboards.  She can hear his breath puffing against her temple.  He lifts his head to look at her, expression somewhat sheepish, and that does it for her.  She snarls at him and bites him on the shoulder, hard and deep.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he curses, pushing off her and scrambling back out of the way, pressing his hand to the wound.  

 

She knows there’s blood on her teeth and mouth.  She can taste the coppery tang.  “I have no idea who you’re talking about,” she says.

 

He pulls his hand back from the bite and looks at the blood coating his fingers.  “What the fuck, Anna?”  He shakes his head.  He looks as confused as she feels.  “Anders,” he says, spitting the name like he doesn’t like the taste of it.  “He came looking for you last week.  Didn’t seem to have any idea I’d be there.”

 

She blinks at him, incredulous.  Anders?  This is about _Anders_?  “Some random asshole comes looking for me and you think that means I’m fucking him,” she snarls.

 

“Well you’re not fucking me,” he says.

 

She looks at herself and then at him, disgusted.  “What do you call this, you prick?” she yells, chest heaving.  “This is the first time I’ve gotten laid since the last time we screwed.”

 

She pushes herself to her feet and steps into the tub, washing herself quickly.  She washes between her legs for all the good it will do.  She _knew_ she shouldn’t have fucked him today.  “I _knew_ this was a mistake,” she curses under her breath, not looking at him.

 

She grabs her robe and leaves.

 

***

 

It’s hours later when Curtis opens the door to their room.  He is not at all shocked to see Anna laying in the middle of the bed, her back to him, surrounded by all of the monsters.  There’s no room for him.  He scrubs a hand roughly across his face and goes to the closet.

 

In the following days, it’s not that he’s avoiding Anna.  His schedule takes care of that all by itself.  But he definitely doesn’t make any effort to _not_ avoid her.  The bite on his shoulder festers and he has to see the medics.  He offers them absolutely no explanation as they open the wound, cut out the necrotic tissue and sew him up.  They give him something they say is an antibiotic.  He figures they’re hoping that’s what it is.  And he’s hoping it doesn’t inadvertently kill him.  It does seem to help and after a couple of days, the swelling has decreased dramatically.  He’s still going to end up with a hell of a scar, which he knows he probably deserves.

 

He fucked up.  Spectacularly.  He knows that.  And again, he has no idea how to fix it.  Anna isn’t speaking to him.  She’s not even speaking to him through other people.  It’s like he doesn’t exist.  He sleeps in the closet, by himself.  Why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut?  Asked her about Anders some other time, calmly, without accusing her of anything?  Curtis still doesn’t know who the guy is or why he was looking for Anna.  And he knows Anna will never tell him now.  

 

Curtis knows she had a life, before.  A life with Wilford and luxuries Curtis can never provide.  A life with friends and acquaintances Curtis doesn’t know.  Most of the people they associate with now are from the tail section.  He’s pulled Anna into his life.  And there’s so much she doesn’t talk about, so much he doesn’t know.

 

***

 

The snows start with no warning.  One day Curtis is in his shirt sleeves, working on the infrastructure project and the next morning, there’s a good two feet of snow, with more accumulating by the minute.  Huge, heavy wet flakes that coat everything.  He walks to the windows and stares out.  Usually by this time, he’s been gone for an hour.  The weak sunlight can’t punch through the dark, heavy clouds, making it seem earlier than it is, so Anna and the monsters have slept in.  

 

“Up, up,” Anna says, moving Isaac out of the way as she runs for the bucket in the corner.  

 

Isaac, sleepy, stumbles over to Curtis, who picks him up.  Holding his son, Curtis watches Anna retch in the bucket.  After a minute or two, she sits down heavily, staring at the wall, her back to him as she cradles her head in her hands.  

 

“You sick?” Curtis asks.  They’re the first words he’s spoken to her in nearly four weeks.

 

She pushes herself to her feet, not looking at him.  “No.”

 

He watches as she pulls on a heavy sweater that’s much too large for her and a pair of shoes and heads down the hall, presumably to the communal bathroom.  Isaac lays his head down on Curtis’s sore shoulder, unfazed by the morning’s events.  Curtis takes it as a sign that this isn’t a new development.  He wonders if she is sick.  He suspects right now that she could be moments from death and still wouldn’t mention it to him.   _Fuck_.

 

An hour later, Curtis trudges through the snow with Lydia and Isaac in his arms.  Mary trails behind, complaining loudly and stopping and crying every few feet.  It takes nearly an hour to make it the short distance to the library because of the monsters.  Curtis is ready to pull his hair out when they finally step inside the building.  Between the monsters driving him nuts and a nagging fear for Anna’s health, his temper is on a short fuse.

 

Yona is the first person they see after entering the building and Isaac and Mary run for her, ecstatic.  She asks them if they want to go outside and play in the snow and they both agree, squealing with delight.  

 

“Traitors,” Curtis mumbles under his breath, watching the children, who were so miserable in the snow with him, happily play with Yona.  Shaking his head, he looks at Lydia.  “At least you still like me.”  As if on cue, she squirms in his arms, wanting to be put down.  

 

He sets her gently on the floor on unsteady little feet.  She reaches up for his finger, latching her fist around it and starts walking toward the market in halting, lurching steps, pulling him with her.  

 

***

 

It’s early evening when Curtis finally gets the monsters back to the apartment.  He thought maybe Anna would show up at the library, but she didn’t.  According to Yona, Anna hasn’t been around as much lately.  He tried not to seem too surprised about that.  

 

With some doing, Curtis manages to carry all three monsters home, making the return trip much quicker.  He fed them at the library and they’re all tired and yawning, mostly peaceful in his arms.  Lydia, he thinks, is actually asleep.

 

The apartment is dark and Curtis has a moment where he thinks maybe Anna left him.  Not that she could go far, but still, it scares him.  But upon closer inspection, she’s there, buried under the covers, still in bed.  He lights one of the lamps and looks at her, assuring himself that she’s only sleeping.  He wipes the monsters’ hands and faces, changes their clothes and tucks them all into bed in the closet.

 

Cautiously, he makes his way over to the bed and sits down in front of Anna.  He touches her forehead.  She doesn’t feel hot to him, but this isn’t exactly his area of expertise.  She opens her eyes and glares at him.

 

“Are you sick?” he asks again, terrified of her answer.

 

“I’m pregnant,” she says and rolls over, away from him.  “Congratulations.  You usually get to miss this part.”

 

He stares at her back and screws his eyes shut.  “ _Shit_.”

 

“Yeah,” she says bitterly.  “Tell me about it.  It’s exactly what we need right now.”

 

He reaches out to touch her, but stops before he makes contact.  She may well bite him again.  He looks at the closet.  He could go sleep with the monsters.  But he doesn’t want to.  Sighing, he pushes himself to his feet.  He shrugs out of his clothes and douses the light before carefully sliding beneath the covers.  He lays there for a long time, trying to figure out how to fix things, how to put his family back together.

 

Some time later, she rolls over, pressing herself against him.  He knows she’s asleep and cold, searching for warmth.  He gathers her close.  Despite his earlier accusations, he knows this baby is his.  It’s some potent irony, considering the fact that he knows he must have gotten her pregnant at the same time he was accusing her of being unfaithful. Though, honestly, he doesn’t even know.  Do they expect each other to be faithful?  They’ve never actually discussed any of this.  They just put one foot in front of the other and hope for the best.  Or at least he does.  He’s not sure what Anna hopes for these days.  Probably a miscarriage.  He wonders if she’s considered getting rid of this one, the way she got rid of Wilford’s.

 

***

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, closing the door the next morning.  He’s back from having dropped the monsters off downstairs with Angie and Seth, wanting privacy with Anna.  She’s still in bed, sitting up, leaning against the wall, watching him with an expression he can’t read.  Slowly, he moves to the bed and takes a seat.

 

“I was jealous,” he says.  “I didn’t think.”  He looks at her, hoping for ... anything.  But her expression offers nothing.  He sighs.  “I want to salvage this, Anna.  If we can.  I want you.”

 

She looks away, crossing her arms over her chest, looking utterly defeated.  “I’m pregnant, Curtis.  And I have three little kids.  Where the fuck do you think I’m going to go?  You think anybody else gives a shit about the monsters?  You think other men are lining up to help me raise them?  I’ve been a single parent already.  I don’t want to do it again.”

 

“So we’ll figure something out for the kids’ sake?” he asks.

 

“What is there to figure out?” she demands.  “You live here.  I live here.  The monsters live here.”  She shakes her head, watching him.  “What do you want from me?  If you need something on the side, feel free.  Just don’t knock anyone else up.”

 

“I don’t want something on the side.”  He looks down at his hands, clasped in his lap and then back up at her.  “I want a life with you,” he says wearily.  “Not just living together, but a life together.  I want to fix this.”

 

Shaking her head again, she looks away, but a tear tracks down her cheek. “I hate needing you,” she says, turning to look at him.  “I _hate_ it.”

 

He winces.  “I’m sorry,” he says again.  “About everything in the bathhouse.”

 

“Yeah,” she says bitterly, “I’m glad you get to be sorry.  I get to be pregnant and have another baby I can barely take care of.”

 

“I didn’t mean to - “ he starts.

 

“You tried to leave us!” she screams, her whole body shaking.  Tears stream down her cheeks and she wraps her arms tightly around herself.  She looks away, wiping angrily at her tears.  “You tried to leave us,” she says again, quieter.

 

He shakes his head.  “When?  I didn’t - “

 

“On the train,” she snaps, glaring at him.  “I saw the footage, Curtis.  Wilford _always_ made sure I saw the footage.  I know how you found out the guards didn't have bullets.  You put that gun to your head and you pulled the trigger on a hunch.   _A hunch!_ ”

 

He blinks at her.  He had no idea she knew that happened.  But she’s right.  That’s what he did.  His hunch was right.  And it turned the tide of Wilford’s balance.  He put the muzzle of the rifle to his head and pull the trigger, on a hunch.  It was a moment, an opportunity.  He hasn’t spared a thought about it since he did it.

 

“You were the _only_ person I could believe in,” she says quietly.  “And you tried to leave us.”

 

“I was trying to _save_ you,” he says.  “I was trying to save us all.  From Wilford and his balance.”

 

She looks at him.  “What if you’d been wrong?  Do you have any idea what that would have done to me, to Mary and Isaac and Lydia?  Do you have any idea what they would have done _to_ us?”  She shakes her head.  “And what happens to all of us when you do something like that again on a hunch, to save us all?”

 

He winces.  What would ‘they’ have done to her and the kids if he’d died?  He doesn’t know.  He pushes it away, concentrating on everything else.  “I’m not going to leave you,” he says.  “Ever.”

 

“That’s what I thought before I saw that footage,” she says, her voice quiet and bitter.

 

It’s clear that she’s been very pissed about this for a long time.  He thinks maybe it’s a relief she finally told him why she’s mad at him.  Then again, maybe not.  Even knowing why, there isn’t a damn thing he can do about it.

 

Sighing, he drags a hand through his hair and slowly scoots closer to her.  He half expects her to try and kick him in the face.  But she sits there, still, glaring at him.  He inches closer and closer, until they are touching, his thigh against hers as they face each other.  “I need you,” he says quietly.

 

She blinks quickly and looks away.  

 

He reaches out, touches her forearm lightly.  Her head snaps toward him.  “I need you,” he says again.

 

Her expression is hard, but her chin wobbles.  Slowly, he leans in, ready to pull back if she decides to headbutt him.  She doesn’t.  She sits and watches.  Slowly, he presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth.  Her eyes flutter shut.  He kisses her again, against her jaw.  She lifts her hands, pressing them to his shoulders and he doesn’t know if she’s going to pull him close or push him away.

 

Finally, her fingers fist in the material of his shirt and pull him closer.  She pushes her cheek against his.  “I don’t want to need you,” she says in a shaky whisper.

 

He wraps his arms around her, pulls her into his lap and her arms go around his neck.  He kisses along her jaw, down her neck and her fingers thread through his hair.  He tumbles her back on the bed and they make love slowly, carefully, mindful of all the wounds and scars they’ve left on each other.

 

***

 

A long while later, they lay there, both on their sides, facing each other.  He trails his fingertips over her cheekbone, watching her.  “I love you,” he says.

 

She blinks slowly.  “I love you too, Curtis,” she says.  She meets his gaze.  “It’s not easy for me to admit that, but I do.  So very much.  The thought of losing you terrifies me.”

 

He pulls her close and kisses her softly.  She presses her forehead to his for a long moment before she pulls back, looking at him.  

 

He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly.  “Do you want this baby?”

 

She lets out a bark of laughter and props herself up on her elbow, looking down at him.  “If I didn’t, I would have gotten rid of it without ever telling you,” she says darkly.

 

He frowns at her, but her expression is firm.  “The next time you have to carry a child for the better part of a year, squeeze it out without painkillers, and then breastfeed it indefinitely, we can talk about how unfair I’m being.”

 

He knows she has a very valid point.  He watches as she flops back down on the bed, laying on her back.  Under the covers, he splays his hand against her abdomen.  “So,” he says, “fille or garcon?”

 

She looks over at him and gives him a wry smile.  Reaching under the covers, she takes his hand and moves it lower, until it’s resting almost at her pubic bone.  “He’s very small right now.”

 

“He,” Curtis repeats quietly.

 

She nods with a soft smile.  “He.”

 

He pulls her to him and kisses her again.

 

END CHAPTER


	5. Chapter 5

Curtis watches as Anna sits up in bed, staring out the windows.  She doesn’t run for the bucket.  She hasn’t for the last couple of days, which she has assured him is normal - at least for her.  “Second trimester,” she said.  Which meant considerably more to her than to him.

 

She glances over her shoulder at where he still lays in bed, Lydia cuddled in the crook of his arm.  He puts Lydia to bed in the closet with the other monsters every night, but she invariably wanders out during the night and tugs on his arm until he hoists her into bed with them.

 

“How is Raj doing?” Anna asks.  “Did you talk to him yesterday?”

 

“Better,” Curtis says, his voice rough with sleep.  “Nick thinks there’s a decent chance the bone will heal well.”

 

Anna nods.  Raj is a member of one of the two scouting teams who left months ago.  Their trip took twice as long as it should have and the camp had pretty much given up hope that they would return.  But they showed up last week, worse for the wear, but with solid intel.  There’s still no sign of the other team.

 

Raj broke his leg on the scouting mission, several weeks before they ended up back at camp, and it was healing poorly.  Nick was forced to re-break the injury and hope for the best.  So far, apparently, it looks promising.  

 

The information the scouts brought back is better than promising. They found a passable route south, and another large, empty city.  No one is sure what the coming winter will do to the the route they took, but they are very hopeful.  

 

In the past several days, word has gotten around camp that the plan to head farther south in the spring is a go.  Curtis has felt a change in the air as people try to make peace with leaving this settlement.  Not that it will be soon.  They have another five months, at least, weather permitting.  Possibly more.  Five months to plan, to heal, to pack.  Curtis knows that the time will fly.

 

Lydia coughs, a barky, croupy sound.  Anna frowns and leans over, pressing her lips to her daughter’s head.  “She’s sick,” she says to Curtis.

 

“Yeah,” he says wearily.  “I know.  She was really restless last night.”   Lydia prefers Curtis, which he knows Anna tries not to take personally.  And especially when Lydia’s not feeling well, she glues herself to him.  

 

“So I guess I’m headed to the weekly meeting,” Anna says.

 

Once a week, the ... logistics team, for lack of a better word, meet.  Most of the camp refers to them as the Council, though Curtis thinks that’s pretty much just to bust their balls.  They handle the planning for the camp, resource management, arbitration.  Anna and Curtis are both part of the team, but given their personal situation, they typically trade off attending the meetings.  It’s Curtis’s turn to go, but he’ll be busy with a sick toddler.

 

Anna pushes herself to her feet and dresses quickly, then wakes the monsters and bundles them into clothes.  Mary and Isaac are already out in the hall when Anna leans over and kisses Curtis on the lips.  “Have fun,” she says with a wry smile.

 

* * *

 

Curtis is sitting in a rusty old folding chair, half asleep when Seth bursts through the door into the bathhouse.  “Curtis, man,” he says, frantic.  “There you are.”

 

Curtis is immediately on his feet at the alarmed edge to Seth’s voice.  He has Lydia cradled to his chest and she continues to gnaw on her little fist.  She was having a hard time breathing, so Curtis brought her down to the bathhouse in the hopes that the steam would help.  “What?” he asks, looking at Seth.

 

“Oh, fuck, man,” he says.  “Come on, you have to get to the library.”

 

Curtis grabs his coat, shrugging into it, bundling Lydia in it as well as he follows Seth out of the bathhouse at a jog.  “What the hell is going on?” Curtis demands.  Anna and the children are in the library.

 

Halfway there, Curtis stops running and stares at Seth, his heart pounding in his chest.  “Are Mary and Isaac alright?” he demands.

 

Seth stops, and turns back, looking at him with a grimace.  “It’s not the kids, Curtis,” he says.  “It’s Anna.”

 

* * *

Curtis paces the hallway, cradling Lydia to his chest with one arm, his free hand reflexively rubbing the top of his head.  Lydia’s finally fallen into a restless sleep and he has to concentrate on not holding her too tightly.  He would have expected Mary and Isaac to take Yona up on her offer to play outside, but instead, they sit huddled in the corner together, watching him with huge eyes, so like their mother’s.  They saw it happen, according to Seth, who got his account from Brin, who was there.

 

“They just barged in and started stabbing people,” Brin said, gaze vacant, eyes glassy.  “By the time we stopped them, it was too late.”

 

Someone - or more likely, a group of someones - wants to get rid of the Council.  Of the dozen regular members, only eight were present at the meeting.  Xua-ying was out, due to being in the late stages of pregnancy.  Curtis was with Lydia.  The other two members who were not present were Susan and Deepa, both from the front and both currently locked in one of the reading rooms pending further investigation into the attack.

 

Of the eight members in attendance at the Council meeting, six are dead.  All from the tail section.  Anna is still alive, for now.  Worth is in better shape, awake and talking, though grievously injured as well.

 

There are gruesome slashes across Anna’s neck and the palms of her hands, though according to Nick, those aren’t the worrisome injuries.  The single stab wound to her chest is the problem.  It missed her heart, but punctured her lung.  She lost a lot of blood.  

 

Curtis stops pacing and leans back against the wall.  He stands there, blinking quickly before he snaps his head back against the wall with a crack, glad for the pain.  Nick and his team of medical staff - the same ones who patched up Curtis’s shoulder several months ago - are in the converted office that serves as an operating theater and hospital room, with Anna.  Curtis knows they’re doing everything they can.  But Curtis knows how fragile life can be.  He knows the odds are long.  People die.  All the time.

 

Curtis has no proof of who would want the Council members dead, but he can hazard a guess.  Anna wasn’t supposed to be there.  He was.  And everyone else who is dead was from the tail.  And all on the heels of the news that the camp will be moving farther south in the spring.

 

* * *

 

Curtis sits on the edge of Anna’s bed, dimly aware of Lydia and Isaac wailing in the background.  Mary is quiet, her huge dark eyes riveted on her mother as she clings to Yona.  Anna is a pallid gray.  Her breathing is shallow and rapid.  The room reeks of antiseptics and body fluids.

 

“Come along,” Angie says, taking the children with her back into the hall.  They’re heading to one of the converted office spaces.  Outside, it’s been dark for hours and Curtis feels numb to everything.

 

Seth lays his hand on Curtis’s shoulder.  “Can I do anything?” he asks, sounding as helpless as Curtis feels.

 

“No,” Curtis says with a sharp shake of his head.  He turns and looks up at Seth.  “The kids - “

 

“We got ‘em,” Seth says, squeezing Curtis’s shoulder.  “They’ll be fine.  Ang’s going to tuck them into bed down the hall.”

 

Curtis nods, looking at Anna.  He opens his mouth to say something and then shuts it.  He nods again.  He’s aware of Seth leaving, shutting the door behind himself.  

Curtis sits there for hours, watching Anna cling to life.  There is absolutely nothing he can do to help.  Nick says, all things considered, it could have been worse.  Curtis isn’t sure how.  He’d gladly trade places with her if he could.  It should have been him.  

 

But it wasn’t him.  

 

It was Anna.

 

Anna who was attacked by a kronole addict with a knife.  On the orders of some front section asshole who doesn’t like the plan to head farther south.

 

There’s a noise and Curtis turns his head, watching as Isaac pushes through the door.  As soon as his eyes meet Curtis’s, he runs and launches himself at Curtis.  Curtis gathers his son close, watching as Mary helps Lydia toddle through the door.

 

Curtis suspects Angie will be along shortly, in a panic.  He knows the monsters wandered off without her noticing.  He’d feel put out about it if they didn’t do the same thing to him at least twice a day.  He pulls Mary and Lydia into his lap as well, and he holds them all close.  His children.  His family.  If anyone had asked him five years ago, he would have said this was impossible.  He’d never have kids, never find a partner.  But he did and he does.  And he and his children are watching her die.

 

They all sit there in silence for a very long time, listening to Anna's labored breathing.  

 

There’s a frantic pounding of footsteps down the hall and Vanessa pokes her head in the room.  She sighs, looking relieved.  Turning, she calls over her shoulder in French.

 

“It’s okay,” Curtis says, tightening his grip on the children.  “They’re fine with me.”

 

He catches Vanessa’s eye and motions for her to come into the room.  “Find Rosh for me,” he says to her.  “You know who she is, right?  Lanky, dark hair, a few years older than you.  From the tail.”

 

Vanessa nods, biting down on her bottom lip.  She looks at Anna and nods again, seeming more resolved.  She turns and leaves.

 

Rosh is the younger sister of Grey - Gilliam’s bodyguard, who perished in the revolt.  Rosh has a similar skillset to her older brother. And it’s a skillset that Curtis needs at the moment.  He needs to find out who did this.  

 

* * *

Nick uses the stethoscope to listen to Anna’s breathing and nods, seeming encouraged.  “Sounds as good as could be expected,” he says.  He looks at Curtis.  “It means she's a fighter.”

 

Curtis nods and swallows thickly.  “Is Anna going to live?” he asks bluntly.

 

Nick takes a deep breath and his expression sobers.  “I don’t know, Curtis.  I wish I did, but I don’t.  She's lasted this long.  That's a good sign.”

 

* * *

 

It’s midday when Curtis hears the quiet knock at the door, followed by it unlatching.  Lydia is asleep in his arms.  The other two are out with Yona.  Curtis motions her into the room.  “Rosh,” he says.

 

Rosh nods.  “The little French girl said you wanted to talk to me.”

 

“I’m sure you can figure out why,” Curtis says.

 

Rosh glances at Anna and nods.

 

“There a guy.  Front section.  Blond hair, scar on his cheek.  Name is Anders.  Find him and bring him to me.”

 

“In one piece?” Rosh asks.

 

Curtis shrugs.  “So long as he can talk, that’s all I care about.”

 

Rosh nods.  “I hope she wakes up,” she says.

 

“Yeah,” Curtis says soberly, “me too.”

  
END CHAPTER


	6. Chapter 6

“Curtis.”  

 

Curtis’s head snaps up and he looks at Angie.  She gives him a sad smile, her hand on his shoulder.  Mary is asleep at his feet, curled up on the floor.  Isaac is in his arms, collapsed against him, his head back at an awkward angle and his mouth wide open.  Lydia is asleep on the corner of Anna’s bed.  “Come on,” Angie says.  “Bring the children and sleep.  I’ll stay with Anna.”

 

Curtis lurches to his feet.  Angie gathers up Lydia and then wakes Mary.  He follows her down the hall, to the darkened room.  There’s a mattress on the floor and he collapses onto it, the monsters immediately curling against him.

 

* * *

 

 

When he wakes, sunlight is streaming through the window and the monsters are gone.  He’s not surprised.  He doesn’t think any of them have ever slept past dawn and it looks like that must have been several hours ago.  He glances around the room, an office, smaller than the one he and Anna shared with the monsters months ago.  Someone, probably Angie, has left a pitcher of water, a basin, some soap and a towel.  Curtis does his best to clean himself up, washing his hands and face, wiping down his chest and arms.  

 

He’s just shrugging back into his shirt when Lydia pushes through the door, edging along the wall until she gets close enough to him that she can take a couple of staggering steps before ramming herself into his legs, clutching at him.  Out in the hallway, he can see Vanessa.  He scoops Lydia into his arms and opens the door, stepping into the hallway.  

 

“She’s awake,” Vanessa says quietly.

 

Curtis doesn’t even reply, he immediately jogs down the hall and goes into the makeshift hospital room.  Anna’s there, still looking mostly dead.  But she’s awake, nodding and murmuring as Mary and Isaac chatter at her.  It looks like they’re showing her pictures that they made.  Standing in the doorway, Curtis blinks at her.

 

“Mama!” Lydia shrieks, clapping.

 

“Indeed,” Anna manages, her voice raspy and quiet.  “I see where you must have gone.”  She looks at him, giving him a tight smile.  “Good morning.  I told them not to wake you.  Lydia, apparently, didn’t listen.”

 

Careful not to bowl his children over, Curtis leans over her, kissing her hard.  Gently, he sets Lydia on the ground and cups Anna’s face in his hand, pressing his forehead to hers.

 

Curtis hears Vanessa call to the children in French.  They amble out into the hallway, screeching and yelling as usual.

 

“Hey,” Anna says softly, wiping at the tears on his face.  “It’s okay.”

 

He shakes his head.  “It’s not okay,” he says, pulling back far enough to look at her.  “It’s a long fucking way from okay, Anna.”  He stares at her.  “You can’t leave me alone with the monsters.  I’m not that brave.”

 

She laughs at his sad attempt at a joke, which leads to coughing, which has her wincing and frowning.  When the fit finally passes, she lays back, fighting for breath.  She still looks gray.  He kneels there, next to the bed, clutching her hand in his.

 

“Has Nick seen you?” he asks.

 

She nods.  “He thinks there’s a decent chance I won’t die,” she says, her voice more hoarse than before.  “Apparently they raided some of the settlements on the south end of the city, found the cache of antibiotics that had gone missing.”  She points to the clear plastic bag of fluid suspended from a hook next to the bed.  He follows the snaking tubing to where it dead ends into a whole lot of tape on the inside of her forearm.  He hadn’t even noticed it when he came in.

 

Curtis nods, pulling her hand to his mouth, pressing a hard kiss to the backs of her knuckles.

 

Anna blinks up at the ceiling, her eyes glassy.  “I lost the baby,” she says quietly.

 

Curtis looks at her and winces.  “I’m sorry.”

 

She moves her hand, cupping it against the side of his face.  He turns into her touch, pressing a kiss to the center of her palm.  “I missed you,” he says quietly.  “I, uh,  _ really _ don’t want to do this alone.”

 

“Do what?” she asks.

 

“Life,” he says flatly.

 

She frowns at him.  “You’re being melodramatic.”

 

“And you were being mostly dead,” he counters.  He shakes his head.  “I was a wreck.  Just ask Angie or Vanessa.”

 

She tugs absently at his forelock, giving him a small smile.  “They already told me.”

 

“A wreck,” he says again for effect.

 

They sit in silence for a long time.  Curtis isn’t sure how he feels about the miscarriage.  He isn’t sure what he  _ should _ feel.  Neither of them were happy about the pregnancy when it happened.  But in the weeks that have passed, it’s become just another aspect of their life together.  And now it’s gone.  Mostly he feels hollow.  But Anna is alive and that truly is the most important thing to him.

 

Nick finally shows up again.  He checks Anna over and reiterates everything Anna already told Curtis.  Curtis suspects that Nick doesn’t really have a clue why Anna isn’t dead, and that he doesn’t want to admit that.  Curtis questions him a little bit about the cache of medication that was found.  Curtis isn’t sure if it a good sign or not that it fits in line with what he already suspected about the camp dynamics.

 

The rest of the day, Curtis spends most of his time trying to keep the kids from tiring Anna out too much.  He finally manages to wrestle Lydia and Isaac down for a nap.  Anna takes a nap too and Curtis is sitting there watching her when Angie knocks lightly on the door.

 

“Rosh wants to see you,” she says.

 

* * *

 

 

Rosh had Anders tied to a chair in the library basement.  He looked better than Curtis anticipated, but not good.  This was all perfectly fine with Curtis.  Curtis stood there, looking at Anders, thinking about how he orchestrated the attack that almost cost Anna her life.  Curtis hadn't been a bully, or a vicious man, for so many years.  But every good man had his breaking point.

 

One of Anders’ eyes is now swollen shut and his lip is cracked.  Several teeth may be missing.  Curtis can’t really tell.  He suspects Anders’ left shoulder is dislocated.  

 

Rosh looks the same as she always looks, a little bored perhaps.  She got a decent headstart on Anders before Curtis joined in.  But Rosh doesn't get worked up about much.

 

Curtis pulls over a crate and sits down in front of Anders.  Anders sneers at him.  “I mentioned your name to Anna once,” Curtis says calmly.  “She didn’t really react.  I think she called you ‘some random asshole’.”

 

Anders’ smug expression falters, but then his lips twist into a poison smile.  “How is Anna doing?”

 

Curtis looks at him, holding his gaze.  “She’s going to be okay,” he says quietly, enjoying the shock on Anders' face.  He winces with feigned sympathy.  “The same probably isn’t true for you.”

 

“This is a joke, you know,” Anders says, spittle and blood on his lips.  “A bunch of trash from the tail section thinking they can decide our fate.  You’re worthless.  Especially you, Curtis.  You did this.  You destroyed everything.  And you’re trying to convince the camp that this is progress.  No one asked you for this.”

 

“Oh, really?” Curtis replies blandly.  “And what did they ask you for?  To murder a bunch of people who are trying to improve life for everyone?  To steal supplies that the entire camp needs to you can hoard them for yourself?  You may have been at the front before, but there is no front now.  There are the useful and the useless.  And you’re the latter.”

 

Curtis sighs and looks over at Rosh.  “Did you find anything else when you caught him?”

 

She shrugs.  “The cache of drugs they took,” she says.  “Nick has them.  And there were a bunch of supplies, a working car.  Nam’s crew took those.”

 

Curtis nods.  “See if you can get anything else out of him.  Don’t kill him.  Yet.”

 

* * *

 

 

Curtis helps Anna eat some soup, which is an exercise in patience for both of them.  The kids are out playing, though they screech into the room at least every ten minutes, needing to assure themselves that Anna is still okay.  

 

Anna finally gives up on the soup and Curtis leans face first into her bed, his arm around her waist.  She cards her fingers through his hair.  He looks bad.  He hasn’t been eating and she doubts he’s slept much either.

 

“There’s blood on your knuckles,” she says, her fingers playing lightly over his hand.

 

He tilts his head to the side and looks at her before closing his eyes again.  “Anders,” he says.  “Rosh has him tied to a chair downstairs.  I’m sure he was behind the attack.  Rosh is trying to determine who his accomplices are.”

 

She runs her hand over his knuckles.  “Determine?”

 

“Beat it out of him,” Curtis says flatly.  He opens his eyes again.  “Who is he?  How does he know you?”

 

She shakes her head, looking away.  “The same way you knew every person in the tail.  Everyone knew everyone.  Anders was one of Wilford’s sycophants.  Anders worshiped him like a god.  Like most of the people in the front.”

 

Curtis pushes himself up.  He rests his arms on her bed, looking at her.  “You mentioned before that ‘they’ would have done things to you if I’d died in the revolt.  Was that Anders?”

 

Anna looks up at the ceiling.  “Among others, yes,” she says.  “Wilford liked to rule by reputation alone.  That had never worked on me.  After Mary was born, my only value to him was whatever influence he thought I could exert on you.  He didn’t care about me or the children.  When he felt I got too far out of line, he’d have men like Anders make his points.”

 

Curtis is quiet for a long time.  “What does that mean?”

 

She blinks quickly, turning her head away from him, staring at the far wall.  “Can we not?” she says.  “I’m exhausted.  You already know Anders an awful person, a murderer, a thief.  Leave it at that.”

 

Curtis nods.  “Okay.”

 

She looks at him.  He looks so tired.  “Rest with me,” she says.

 

The bed isn’t big, but Curtis manages to curl up next to her.  She’s shocked at the visceral pleasure she gets from laying next to him.  Despite the push and pull of their relationship over the last year, she has come to depend on him in so many ways.  And she’s more than a little afraid that home is to be found only at his side.

 

* * *

 

 

Rosh hands Curtis a jug of water and he takes it, drinking deeply.  He’s exhausted, his hands aching.  And Anders is little more than a mass of flesh, groaning in the middle of the room.

 

“I’ll finish him,” Rosh says quietly.  “And dispose of the remains.”

 

Curtis looks at her and nods.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s another three days before Nick releases Anna.  Curtis is beyond irritated.  The ‘hospital’ is no more a hospital than their room down the street.  There’s no reason in Curtis’s mind that he couldn’t have taken Anna home, to their bed, days ago.

 

Nick just looks at him and shakes his head.  “She’s free to go now,” he says.  “I’ll be by to check on her in a couple of hours.”

 

Anna insists that she can walk, but they use a stretcher.  Curtis and Mack, another former tail sectioner, have her moved in a matter of minutes.  Angie and Vanessa are there, with the kids, who are ecstatic that everyone is home.  Curtis is too, though he refrains from jumping and screaming.

 

Later that night, when the monsters are asleep, and Nick has already made his rounds, they finally curl up together in bed.  Curtis holds her close, too overcome to actually speak.  She seems to understand and presses kisses to his cheeks and finally his lips.

 

“I’m not leaving you,” she says.

 

“Damn right you’re not.”

 

* * *

 

 

The trials are conducted quickly as possible, though it’s all public.  It’s not hard to come by a jury of one’s peers, when this is the only thing that passes for entertainment.  Though Curtis makes damn sure the jury is split between Tail and Front. 

 

Anders had five conspirators they were able to identify.  Two of them are terrified, and share all the details of the failed coup, in the hopes of sparing their lives.  The remaining three are defiant, belligerent.

 

The snows, having arrived, show no signs of abating, so the trails are very well attended.  The three are found guilty and summarily executed.  Two men and a woman.  The younger man and the woman were a couple.  Their two children are now orphans, wards of the camp.  It’s such a waste, Curtis thinks.  For what?  For some lost glory that was never particularly glorious?

 

The two turncoats are spared, though they are marked.  Brands across their left cheeks.  And they are sentenced to serve the camp for five years.  Curtis doesn’t know exactly what that is going to entail.  He’s soliciting suggestions.  At the moment, he has them helping Nam scavenge spare parts in the bitter cold.

 

Curtis doesn’t tell Anna about the trial until it’s all over.  She has spent most of her days sleeping, slowly recuperating, and he didn’t want to be the cause of any more emotional turmoil.

 

When he finally does tell her, she’s quiet.  The attack cost so many lives.  And so many of the victims were vital to the future of the camp.  She sighs heavily.  “We have to replace the Council members.”

 

“We’re working on it,” he assures her.  “We already have people stepping up, filling in.  I think we’ll be okay.”

 

She looks at him.  “Do you believe that?”

 

“I have to,” he says wryly.  “There’s no other option.”

 

* * *

 

 

Another couple of weeks and Anna is finally back on her feet.  She moves slowly, sticks close to the apartment.  But she’s on the mend.  She’s started getting irritated with how much he hovers, which Curtis assumes is a good sign.

 

He slowly resumes his regular schedule.  There is so much to do, especially if they’re going to head south in the spring.  They’ve finally replaced all of the lost Council members and are slowly making headway.

 

Curtis is in a strategy meeting when Timmy knocks on the door.  Curtis waves him in and Timmy says, “Anna.”

 

Curtis is immediately out the door, bolting through the snow toward the apartment.  When he finally gets there he’s gasping for breath, terrified.  

 

Anna is sitting there on the edge of the bed, looking at him with wide eyes.  “Are you okay?’’

 

He blinks.  “I’m fine.  Are  _ you _ okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” she says.  She shakes her head.  “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”  She frowns.  “Why are you here?”

 

“Timmy said - “ he says, still fighting for breath.  “Timmy said ...”  He falls silent because Timmy didn’t actually say anything, other than  _ Anna _ .

 

She shakes her head again, biting back a smile and slowly crosses the room to where he’s standing against the doorjamb, still trying to catch his breath.  She takes his face in her hands and kisses him gently.  “I told Timmy I needed to talk to you when you had a chance.  About Christmas presents for the kids.”

 

Curtis just blinks at her dumbly.  “Christmas presents?”

 

She nods, smiling at him.  “It’s in a couple of weeks.”  She looks touched, and amused.

 

He shakes his head.  Adrenalin is still coursing through his veins, the bone deep terror that something had happened to her again.  He grasps her hips lightly and spins her, backing her against the wall.

 

She gasps, looking up at him, and a smile spreads across her face.

 

He leans in and kisses her deeply.  She groans, reciprocating, threading her fingers through his hair.

 

Curtis grunts, barely catching himself as Lydia plows into the backs of his knees at full tilt.  She is followed quickly by Isaac, and then Mary.  For several moments, the monsters vie for position, all trying to squeeze between Curtis and Anna.

 

Curtis chides them softly, bending down to pick up Lydia, who has a very triumphant look on her little face.  Isaac and Mary each take a side, one of their arms hooked around his legs, the other hooked around Anna’s legs.

 

Anna reaches out and touches his cheek, pulling him in for another kiss.  “It’s going to be okay.”

 

END CHAPTER


End file.
